


Fathers' Rings

by silverspirit2005



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Consensual Infidelity, Draco Malfoy-centric, Drowning, F/M, Fertility Issues, Harry Potter Has Issues, Heavy Angst, I mean from a certain point of view..., I only borrowed the Next-gen kids' names, Infertility, Infidelity, M/M, Mean Harry Potter, Mentions of Cancer, Mpreg, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Epilogue Compliant, One-Sided Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, One-Sided Relationship, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sorry guys, Terminal Illnesses, Unhappy Ending, You decide!, because the characters are at my mercy and I say MORE ANGST, but Harry is really mean in this story, hand-wavy magic too for that matter, hand-wavy science, it might be considered not-unhappy ending, like for real, no seriously, not unfriendly to Ginny though, the usual HP crowd is around, this is so OOC omg, though they are mostly only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspirit2005/pseuds/silverspirit2005
Summary: To give his wife a child that they both deserve, Harry Potter will stop at nothing.Even if he has to sleep with Draco Malfoy._____This is not a fluffy happy story, so please heed warnings in the tags. This will be brutal, because I don't give my characters a break.But hope you all enjoy this nonetheless.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Sirius Potter/OFC
Comments: 20
Kudos: 145





	Fathers' Rings

**Author's Note:**

> This was written 7 years ago at the height of my Drarry mpreg reading days, and has not been beta read. I have done my best to polish this up for consumption now, but have likely missed things along my way, so apologies if things sound clunky!  
> Enjoy yourself some heavy angst!

**Part 1:**

When Harry walked into the small room, Malfoy was sitting on the narrow bed, his back propped up against a couple of pillows and his arms heavy with a small squirming bundle. At the sound of the door, Malfoy looked up from the bundle and rested his eyes on him, granting him a tired smile. His smile widened as Harry walked approached the bed and sat down a nearby chair, all the while gazing in fascination at the baby boy whose undivided attention was still on Malfoy. The blond man slowly propped the baby upright, and Harry gasped at the mop of dark hair and shiny green eyes staring at him curiously. Unable to restrain himself, Harry raised out a hand towards his new son, tentatively touching his soft cheek as if the child was going to break. The baby did not flinch at the touch, he seemed almost relaxed like he knew who the man was. Just then, Harry broke into a wide grin, the happiest he had looked ever since they first got together, and Malfoy gave a soft sigh, letting his head drop back to the pillow and smiling lazily at the father and child.

Suddenly Harry's phone rang, the sound bounced off the closed room and startled all three of them. The baby wailed at the intrusion and Harry retracted his arm, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He sent glances at both Malfoy and the child, then down at his vibrating pocket.

“Potter," Malfoy drawled, "either you answer the damn thing or let me destroy it. Either way, get it as far away from my son as possible, it's upsetting him.”

Taking it as permission, Harry bolted out of the room, barely looking back at the blond. The baby stopped crying almost immediately and he resumed staring at his father in quiet amazement. The man looked down at him, still smiling while lovingly tracing the soft frame of his round face with a thumb. The child's tiny fingers wriggled out from under their cover and took hold at his father's ring finger, gripping at the warm metal ring coiling around it. Both of them could hear the muffled voice of the brunette on the other side of the door, the words unclear, though Malfoy suspected he already knew who called. Suddenly, he gripped the boy in his arms tightly, making the child frowned, yet he remained quiet. Green eyes still stared at silver ones, the silver eyes that were filled with indescribable grief and fear. The boy felt his father lifting him up to his chest and his cheek crushed at a bony shoulder, his tiny body shaking with trembles from the body underneath him and his fingers never letting go of his father's ring.

The world suddenly felt so large and there was no one else in existence but the two of them.

It ended all too soon when the door creaked open again. Harry popped his head back in to find Malfoy bouncing their baby son happily, just like before. He walked back into the room, mumbled a half-hearted excuse at which Malfoy did not question, as if he had not heard him at all. “You seem tired”, Harry said as he weaved his fingers into the blond strands, the usually perfect hair now matted together with sweat. “You try giving birth to a baby this size, 'tired' doesn't even begin to describe it”, Malfoy retorted back, a grimace on his face. “You should lay down for a bit. I'll take him back to the Mediwitch”, Harry suggested as he reached out towards the baby.

For a moment, his heart stopped as a hand tightly gripped his wrist. He looked up at Malfoy and saw silver eyes glared at him intensely. “Scorpius, his name is Scorpius”, Malfoy spoke in a rush, as if pleading in fear that Harry would change the name. “Of course, Scorpius. I'll just take Scorpius when you have a nap, how about that?” The grip on his wrist loosened and Malfoy nodded, closing his eyes in resignation. Harry eased him down to the laying position and brushed a kiss on his forehead before taking the baby in his arms. As Harry stood up, he saw Malfoy fluttered his eyes opened, something like panic flashed alarmingly at the sight of his son being taken away, but Harry gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and Malfoy closed his eyes again, smiling contently.

When Harry walked out to the hallway, he did not close the door behind. He handed the baby to the waiting Mediwitch then silently turned at the doorway. Malfoy was on his side facing away from the door, his body rising evenly with every breath. Harry gave one long look at the man in front of his eyes, then took out his wand and pointed.

“Obliviate!”

* * *

**Part 2:**

The moment Harry saw Ginny's beaming face at the little baby, the last thread of guilt in his heart melted away. He looked fondly at the sight of Ginny, with radiant smile and gentle hands, cooed at the dark-haired child in the crook of her arms. Ginny, who sent him a smile full of gratitude when he handed her the boy for the first time. Ginny, whose nightingale-like voice whispered the name of their newborn with such love it made one's heart ache. Ginny, with footsteps light as feathers, walked to the bassinet and tucked the baby in tenderly. Ginny, whose entire being yearned and ached to be a mother.

Poor, ill-fated Ginny who could never have a child of her own.

Harry thought it was the worst day of his life, far exceeding the days of the Final Battle, when he saw Ginny broke down into tears in the cold and impersonal room of St. Mungo's. The way Ginny kept her back straight as she tried to hold back her sobs yet could not stop her tears made an even more heart-wrenching picture. The way Ginny looked straight at her Healer's sympathetic but professional face as he explained her condition, how untreatable it was even with the combination of magical and Muggle methods, how she would not be able to live pass thirty, how her health would deteriorate at an unpredictable rate. How she would never be able to carry a baby.

Only then did Ginny finally break. She let out a small gasp, as if letting go of her final anchor, as she hugged her body with her own arms and let out a loud cry like a wounded child. She had completely forgotten her husband sitting in the next seat until calloused palms stroked her hair and her tears soaked through the cloak on his chest. Ginny had tucked her head into the crook of his neck and sobbed into his shirt without knowing, all the while Harry himself was crying into her hair, unrestrained.  
All the while Harry himself, feeling like a complete fool, could do nothing to stop her tears.

The first few days following the diagnosis, Ginny acted as if nothing had happened. She woke up with a bright smile and hummed to herself as she made scrambled eggs in the kitchen, she kissed Harry good morning with a twinkle in her eyes, she joked over an article in _The Quibbler_ as she poured herself coffee. Ginny seemed to have forgotten about her demise altogether. Harry did not, but he himself was at a loss as to what to say and tried to push the depressing thoughts to the back of his skull, following Ginny's cues instead. It was fine until one night when he woke up to Ginny silently crying in an empty room, originally intended to be a nursery when they first renovated Godric's Hollow. The moment he saw her rolling tears as she sat motionlessly on the floor, it hit him again that nothing was all right, that nothing could change the fact that Ginny was sick and dying and condemned to childlessness. Again, as he drew his wife to his chest and rocked her slowly to slumber, he felt hopelessness washed over him, pulling the two of them down a bottomless dark sea.

After that they stopped with the pretense. The next evening, Ginny went to The Burrow alone while Harry was caught up with work late and told her family the news. The couple started to go to frequent check-ups to monitor the development of the tumour growing in Ginny's uterus. Ginny started to take caseful of potion vials, although all they were good for was to numb the terrible clenching pain. Ginny's health started to deteriorate at a subtle speed, though recognisable, and sometimes Harry would stay up all night with her, holding her firmly in his arms as she whimpered in agony. Hermione dived head-first into researching, as she was wont to do, and their friends and family as well. Unfortunately, be it an unknown family curse or a particularly maligned cancer type, there was simply no cure. And Ginny grew progressively worse.

One evening, after a weekend dinner at The Burrow, Ron and Hermione announced that they were expecting their first baby. Immediately, all eyes went to Ginny who seemed to have frozen in her seat. There was a quiet hush and angry whispers coming from Molly's direction to the older couple, enraged by their carelessness of Ginny's condition. The guilty look on Ron and Hermione's faces were wiped off with a flick of Ginny's hand, assuring everyone that she was fine and her situation was no excuse to stop the family from being happy for her brother and sister. Everyone was reminded for a moment that Ginerva Weasley was a strong woman who did not tolerate pity in any way and hated being reminded of her inferiority. Joy was back in the room once more as people congratulated the expecting parents. Harry cheered as well, though he felt Ginny's heavy gaze on him all the while.

That night, when they were finally back home and cuddling up in bed, Ginny told her husband that she wanted him him to have a child. At Harry's shocked expression, she looked up into his darkened eyes, mustered the rest of her courage and repeated the words in all seriousness. She knew how much Harry loved children and was looking forward to having their own when they got married. She had seen how Harry cheered up when they visited Teddy and the Weasley kids. She had seen how Harry sometimes stared at the window of a toy store in a daze, as if pondering at a gift for his own child. Ginny had seen all of that and she wanted the same. Both of them desired a child and they both deserved it. It would be impossible to have a biological child from both of them, seeing that Ginny's eggs were all degenerated before the illness was discovered. Thus, she reasoned, Harry would just have to have a child with someone else.

As Ginny felt the rumble from Harry's incensed yell above her head, she hushed him gently and snuggled up even closer to his chest. She assured that there was nothing he could do to make her stop loving him, she would not see it as an act of betrayal and she would rather prefer a child related to one of them than one of strange blood. She was certain that she would care for the child as if it was her own, and just because she could not have a child by blood did not mean that he would be deprived of that honour. But he did not wish a child from someone else, Harry cried, still failing to comprehend how Ginny could have thought of something so outrageous in the first place. Still, Ginny was nothing but stubborn and took it her mission to convince Harry night after night, whispering to him in desperation and urgency. By the end of the month, Harry finally yielded after one more night in the would-be nursery once again, Ginny sobbed into her husband's chest, “Please do it for me, Harry.”

They started to visit a counsellor and put their names down on the surrogate waiting list. Despite the anonymity of the procedure, somehow the couple found themselves with a surrogate after just a few weeks. Maybe their Healer had pulled some strings, or maybe it was Harry, anxious to please Ginny, was actually the one pulling strings, by then it no longer mattered. The insemination was done soon after, then came the two weeks waiting for the pregnancy to be confirmed. Two weeks of both of them nervously on the edge of their seats and a great air of excitement in the house, Ginny even forgetting a Healer's monthly appointment. The day of their appointment found the couple waiting in the Healer's office looking as if their hearts would jump out of their throats at any moment.  
When the healer came into the room with the test result in his hand, his face unreadable, they could not help but hold their breath.

“I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, but your surrogate is not pregnant.”

Disappointment did not even begin to describe Ginny's despair. A stubborn woman on all account, she only uttered a quiet “Oh” as she stayed still and solemn while the Healer went on about possibilities and explanations, though Harry doubted she actually registered any words being spoken. She stumbled only lightly when it was time to leave and did not seem to realise when Harry took her hand and guided her to the Floo. She only sighed tiredly when they arrived home and rested her forehead on his shoulder, sobbing quietly into his shirt as he held her and rocked her gently.

In the middle of the night, Harry once again found her crying in the nursery-to-be. The next morning, Ginny looked at him in the eyes and said, “We can try again”, more like to convince herself. Harry nodded and she finally let out a relieved smile.

So they tried again. And again. And again. Six times, six different Healers and surrogates, six series of extensive and intrusive tests on both them. Six half-months of being kept on their toes. Six heads shaking sadly at the desperate couple that confirmed once again, there was no baby on the way. Six times Harry and Ginny sat through it all, listening to the Healers' sympathetic words, six times Ginny refused to shed her tears until they were home. Countless nights Harry held his wife as she cried to sleep in the nursery, empty of furniture and empty of a child's cries.

It was Ginny at the end of the rope when she visited Harry at work one day and found Malfoy quietly but constantly watching her husband from a distant table in the cafeteria at lunch. As she laid in Harry's arms later that night, she recalled the fierce stormy gaze and could not help but wonder.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Ginny?”

“I think I know why our… tries had been futile so far.”

“You do?”

“I asked our Healers about it and they agreed on the same thing. They seem to think that the embryos are incompatible to the female surrogates and fail to attach to the uterus. So, either there is something wrong about the embryos or the women and the healers seemed to lean on the latter.”

“Ginny, what can we do about that then? They were all tested before the implantation, some of them were even surrogates to other couples before. There was no indication that it would fail for us.”

“Which is why, Harry, I think most women are less compatible with your magic.”

“What are you saying, Gin?”

“What I'm saying is that, why don't we try with a male surrogate instead?”

“Err, Ginny, I know we're in a really desperate situation, but males?”

“What's wrong with males?”

“For one, they're males!”

“So?”

“Males can't get pregnant!”

“They can.”

“What?”

“I'm not sure about Muggles but wizards can get pregnant. It would require fertility potions, but it can happen.”

“Then why didn't our Healer suggest that to us in the first place?”

“Because you were dead set on not conceiving a child through sex. Male pregnancy cannot be brought about by artificial insemination, Harry.”

“So you're saying...”

“Conception has to be in a natural way.”

“You want me to fuck a guy and knock him up.”

“Harry.”

“Damn it, Ginny!”

“I know. I'm so sorry.”

“But all of this... You've done some research on this beforehand, haven't you?”

“Harry, you know I wouldn't suggest this if we only had a tiniest chance with any other options, but we don't. I know you don't want to sleep with someone else but we have no other choice. Can you please do it for us, for me?”

"...Fine. I'd better make an appointment with the Healer now, before I regret agreeing to this clusterfuck."

"No, Harry, we cannot go through a normal male surrogate for this!"

"But you just said- why not?"

"Due to the nature of male pregnancy and the fact that conception has to be natural, the male surrogate is always pre-informed of the father's identity, lest they decide not to go through the process. And if our identities are known to them, there is no telling that they will keep it a secret, or that they will not want to keep the baby for any sort of leverage or fame."

"Wouldn't patient confidentiality prevent them from doing any of this in the first place, or an Unbreakable Vow? Surely there are ways to keep this hushed up."

"Since pregnancy is so much more taxing on the male body than females, it is seen as a massive sacrifice to the carrier. If desired, the male carrying the baby will always be granted custody of the child, even if a mother might not be. Harry, they can keep the baby if they want to, especially if the father is you! The law would completely be on their side, even patient confidentiality can be overruled. It is also forbidden to place an Unbreakable Vow on participants in a fertility ritual, in case it has an effect on the well-being of the baby."

"So you're saying that there is no way out of this, since we will never be able to find someone who will absolutely keep their mouth shut."

"No, Harry, what I am saying is that we need a surrogate who will never be able to publicly admit to having relations with you. Someone who is perhaps ostracised from the society, or someone whose words will never be taken seriously even if they tell others."

"Merlin help me... we would be taking advantage of someone in no position to say no! I'm still not going to force myself on anyone, even for you Ginny. It's enough I'm trying to force myself into this.”

“So it's fine if the recipient is willing?”

“Right, and where in the world would we find a man who is willing to have a baby with me yet will never talk about it?”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I know just the person.”

Then she told him all she knew about Malfoy's secret-crush-since-something-like-5th-year. How she had caught Malfoy staring at him at too many an occasion to be accidental. How she had it almost confirmed when she accidentally overheard a chat between Parkinson and Bulstrode at Madame Malkin's. How she had casually and nonchalantly pulled it out from tea with her new friend Greengrass that Malfoy's surprisingly restricted sex life seemed to only involved one-night stands whose appearance was suspiciously like Harry, not that Daphne had any comment on that. How she saw it for herself at their latest lunch when Malfoy practically slaughtered her as she intentionally flirted with Harry, if only looks could kill or he had been more gifted in wordless magic.

Harry listened to all of this in mild shock, partly from the idea itself, partly from the fact that it was rather obvious to him too, now that he actually thought about it.

Harry had not seen Malfoy for years after the war. There was a short period of time when there was nothing in the papers but public outrage that the man had escaped a lifetime of Azkaban, despite the fact that both of the elder Malfoys were subjected to the Kiss and it was proven that their under-aged son's involuntary crimes were due to threats to his family. After the sensational trial, Malfoy had disappeared. He did not return to Hogwarts to finish 7th year, nor did he attend the Ministry's belated N.E.W.T.s. He cut off all contacts with his school friends, closed down the Manor and virtually ran away from Britain. Not that Harry cared, of course. He might have let his mind drifted to a certain blond once or twice during the first few weeks back at Hogwarts, but that was it. He did not care when one of the tables lacked a familiar blond head, he did not care when no school nemesis tormented him between classes, he did not care when he went on his merry way into Auror training as soon as he stepped a foot off the Hogwarts Express, leaving behind his subdued Slytherin cohort.

Thus, it was the understatement of the century to say that Harry was only surprised, when one day after lunch he and Ron opened their joined office to find himself staring in the face of Draco Malfoy of all people. Even if said Draco Malfoy was accompanied by one Head of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, who seemed to be all too nonchalant about the presence of an ex-Death Eater in their mix. Kingsley, once spotted the men, went out to introduce the newest face of the Forensic Department, resolutely ignoring the deadly glares the ex-Gryffindors were aiming at the blond. All the while, Malfoy kept quiet and stood partially hidden behind Kingsley, flipping through a stack of paper like he was bored. As if it was no big deal.

All of the sudden, Harry was seeing a lot of Malfoy. He saw Malfoy when he stopped by the FD to turn in evidence or to receive a report; he found Malfoy chewing on his sandwich alone in a corner of the cafeteria; he had a glance of blond hair in the crowded lift in the morning rush; he used the Floo next to Malfoy's after work. Each time Malfoy acted as if he did not know Harry. Actually, he acted as if he did not know anyone but his team and Kingsley, obviously a poor attempt to erase his dark past and the offending tattoo underneath his sleeve. But that suited Harry just fine. He was still not fond of the man, despite being the one who spoke for him at the trial; however he felt no need to taunt on their past. As far as he concerned, they did not owe each other anything.

Until now, maybe.

And then it began, Ginny's so-called Plan to Woo Malfoy into having Their Baby. It began with Ginny sending little inconspicuous gifts discreetly to Malfoy at his office under Harry's name, because after all Harry had a marital status to maintain. Fluttering owls with charmed notes tracked down Malfoy Manor where the man now stayed .Then it was Harry giving Malfoy long meaningful looks every time they met and accidental brushes of skin whenever Harry could find a chance.

After a week, Harry received a reply from Malfoy on an invitation of a Friday drink. Then it was another drink next weekend, then a ticket to Quiddich, then it was dinner under candles and moonlight on the grounds of the Malfoy Manor. The affair commenced so quickly it almost give Harry whiplash until he recalled Malfoy's long-time crush for him. They started to go on proper dates, dates that were more like colleagues meeting up for a drink after work, dates that were more like friends relaxing out over a Quiddich game, all in secret of course, there was no need to make things complicated for a married man like Harry. Only that Harry tried to hold Malfoy's hand under the table and Malfoy kissing him on the mouth before he Apparated home. Then, it was only the matter of time before he got Malfoy into bed, Harry mused as he half-heartedly stared at the naked man lying next to him on the biggest bed in the Manor, breathing softly and hair matted to his forehead with sweat. It was almost too good to be true, really, that Harry had a hard time believing how successful Ginny's plan had been. When Ginny urged him to ask Malfoy for a baby, he told himself that this was it, this was when this would fail. He tried to stall for time, telling Ginny that it was too soon in the relationship to start talking about having a child, and what if Malfoy demanded a divorce when he thought Harry was getting serious?

In the end, before Ginny could coach him on how to react in such cases, Harry was the one who accidentally blurted out the question one day post-coital. For one long moment, Malfoy did not say anything and Harry convinced himself that Malfoy had already fallen asleep. At midnight when Harry stepped out of the shower, ready to go back to Ginny, he found Malfoy sitting upright on the bed, twisting a handful of quilt in his hands and staring straight into Harry's eyes.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Let's have a baby.”

Shock was the first feeling. Then it was a rush of relief, of worry, of happiness as Harry imagined Ginny's face beaming with joy. When he bent down to hug the blond, Malfoy's face looked as if something had just been broken. But it was probably just the patches of moonlit shadows on his face.

They started to see a private Healer who had been sworn to secrecy. Malfoy started taking fertility potions and Harry started to make a habit of fucking him in the parchment-packed Archives room where no one ever frequented in addition to their usual evening rendezvouses. Never once did Malfoy asked after Harry's intention to Ginny or questioned Harry's want for a child. It was as if he knew.

Malfoy got pregnant after two weeks.

On the night after Malfoy's first Healer's appointment, Harry called Ginny right away after he was sure Malfoy was asleep. Ginny had sounded so full of life when she lapped up details of the baby, how long ago it was conceived, how big it was then, the estimated due date, if it was all healthy, if Harry brought back a scan photo for her. For a moment, Harry forgot that he was standing in the hallway of the Malfoy Manor and was instead cuddling up to his wife on their bed, discussing happily after _Ginny_ 's first prenatal check-up. For a moment, Ginny herself forgot that it was not her who was carrying the child. Her excited voice was contagious, making Harry's own cheek tinged with excitement. But then, Ginny's voice suddenly seemed lost and Harry realised that she was asking about the child's birth. The pretense was gone as both of them were again reminded of the facts. That their rightful child was carried by someone else. That Ginny was unable to get pregnant. That they would have to erase a Malfoy out of their lives the moment the child was born.

When Harry was at the door about to leave the Manor that night, he took one last look at Malfoy.

Malfoy who had tormented Harry and his friends for years in Hogwarts. Malfoy who had wanted to kill Dumbledore. Malfoy who had led Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Malfoy who had lived with the Dark Lord for the entire summer. Malfoy who looked like a kicked puppy when attending his own trial. Malfoy who had lost both parents to The Kiss. Malfoy who had been pining after Harry for Merlin knows how long. Malfoy who had clawed at Harry's back the first night they were together. Malfoy who did not object to the secrecy of their affair. Malfoy who had a small baby laying in an uterus he was not supposed to have. Malfoy who did not deserve a child of his own, the insufferable bastard he was. Malfoy who was carrying their child; not Harry and Malfoy's, but Harry and Ginny's.

All of the sudden, Harry found himself incandescent with rage. Angry at fate for condemning Ginny to something that was slowly robbing her of her dreams and life. Angry at all the Healers in the world who could do little to keep Ginny from pain. Angry at himself for not being able to take her pain as his own, to share her agony. Then he saw Malfoy stirred, and he was angry at Malfoy as well. Angry at the poof who tried to charm him, knowing fully well that he was married. Angry at the bastard for shamelessly invited him back to the Manor where he once witnessed his friends being tortured. Angry at the slut who tried to push Harry into the wall and suck him off even before they could get to the bedroom. Angry at the man that was able to carry their child, while Ginny, a woman in all her rights, could not. It was not fair, not to Harry, not to Ginny. Suddenly, it felt as if Malfoy was the one robbing Ginny of her baby. Enraged, Harry wanted to wake Malfoy up and slam his pretty little head against the wall, he wanted to shake Malfoy violently while screaming at his face, letting him know that this baby was supposed to be Ginny's, no, it would always be Ginny's, and don't he dare come anywhere close to his wife and child, because he had no rights to do so.

The murderous thoughts chased Harry all the way home, but the moment he saw Ginny practically jumping with anticipation when he handed her the photo of their baby, they all vanished. He was once again drowned in Ginny's happiness and thought no more of the dark bedroom or the blond man he had left behind.

The events that followed were exactly according to plan.

Malfoy gathered his long overdue holidays and applied for a year-long leave at the same time Ginny started to stay home more often, only venturing out with a charmed pregnant belly.

Harry stopped for longer to stare at the colourful toys, this time with a smile on his lips.

The spouses decorated the nursery with enthusiasm, happily filled up the once-emptied room with baby furniture and re-painted the room with flying griffins and unicorns.

Harry became more attentive to the pregnant man, bestowing him with pregnancy necessities and gifts, more than half of which was originally from his wife and none of which was postnatal-related.

And then the child was born.

* * *

**Part 3:**

And then, just like in a fairy tale, happiness returned to Godric's Hollow with the arrival of the dark-haired baby. Even if Harry and Ginny were waken up at three in the morning by the loudest cries, even if they were sick of the seemingly endless flow of nappies, even if they no longer had any time for themselves; still, they sailed through it all with a genuine smile on their lips. Because these were what all new parents were subjected to. Dirty nappies, wailing at ungodly hours and complete exhaustion could make them curse in annoyance, but eventually when they held their sleeping son at the end of the day, they were both glad that he was there with them, that their wish had come true. _Especially hers_ , Harry wistfully thought when he spied his wife singing a lullaby to their son as she gently rocked him to sleep.

They never told anyone about the truth of James' birth, not even to the Weasley family. The media had no trouble believing Ginny's made-up story, how she was under Healer's order to stay inside all through her pregnancy due to poor health, how she went into labour in late December and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. The Weasleys, satisfied with the idea of a secret surrogacy, were understanding of tight-lipped the couple were, given the many failures that preceeded. As far as they were aware, James Sirius Potter was the son of Harry and Ginny Potter.

In the end, neither Muggle nor magical means could forever prolong Ginny's life. Her weak body finally gave up half a decade later, just a few days after James' 5th birthday. Her death inevitably turned into a relentless wave in the media as papers were filled with articles soaked with the most sympathetic condolences to Harry and the family, especially to the poor little boy who had to part with his dear mother at such a tender young age. They then went on to tell the tales of the wife of the Chosen One, her innocent days at Hogwarts, her bravery during the War, her immense strength that served as an emotional pillar for her husband, how the wretched illness robbed her of her youthful life. Ginny's funeral, originally meant to be a quiet affair, ended up with journalists standing on their toes waiting for a chance to see the solemnly pained face of Harry Potter at the family cemetery at Godric's Hollow, where Ginevra Potter's body laid. Camera flashes went off with a thousand clicks at the sight of a single tear rolling down each cheek.

The next day, wizards and witches nationwide swooned softly at the photo of five-year-old son putting a single rose on a newly buried grave, mouthing “Mummy”. The very same day, a man in his late twenties carefully cut out the exact same photo and put it in an album half-filled with photos of the same boy at various ages. He spent long moments looking at the newest addition to his collection, all the while covering the boy's mouth with the tip of his thumb. Hoping he could block out the child's utter. Like he wished the boy had said something else.

“Daddy?”

“Yes James?”

“Where did I come from?”

“Well, that's a very interesting story. You see, your mother and I were very much in love. Because we loved each other so much, one day mum was gifted with you. You stayed in mum's warm belly and nine months later a little James was born out of love.”

“… Daddy?”

“Anything else son?”

“That was such a sappy story. Not interesting at all.”

“… You're right. How about I tell you about that one time when I raced a dragon over the grounds of Hogwarts?...”

Harry opened the door to the Forensic Department and came to a still.

He had been bringing James to work for about a month now, when it was summer vacation and Molly, who usually took up the task of babysitting whichever grandchildren she was thrown at, was down with an unseasonably bad cold. When he and Ron had to step out for a case, as per usual he left the boy in the car of his trusted colleagues, who were delighted by the sweet child. For the past month James had been a most obedient child, obeying his dad in keeping to the office floor and always with at least one other Auror.

Thus, it came as quite a shock, really, to see him perching on a high seat in the middle of the lab, much like a shrunken version of eleven-year-old Harry, staring in awe at a bubbling cauldron and the various phials of blood standing in neat lines on the top bench. Even more surreal, was the fact that Malfoy of all people was talking to him in a quiet voice on the other side of the bench. James looked up as Harry entered the room and started to talk animatedly about how he was bored with the office and had found his way down the Forensic lab when he spotted Mr. Malfoy working on a fairly recent murder case. James did not see the way Harry frown nor how Malfoy stared quite rigidly at the father and son. In the end, James talked his dad into letting him stay and watch, provided he stayed still in his seat and did not try to touch anything without permission.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the strangest of fashion. Malfoy, still in his unusually quiet whisper, talked James through his work as he went about testing suspects' samples and trace of curses. Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of his sentence and look up at the child with what seemed to be pure shock, as if he had forgotten about James' presence, his hands would tremble and reach out halfway towards the boy like he wished to touch him, but the hands always dropped midway. James, oblivious to all this, appeared to hang on the man's words like prophecies, nodding enthusiastically at times despite his lack of knowledge on the subject. By the end of the day, James appeared to have soaked up the Potions vault of knowledge of his lifetime. Harry took it as a good excuse to leave, he scooped up the boy in his arms, nodded to Malfoy and made a beeline towards the door. He did not hear Malfoy saying goodbye.

“Merlin, Harry, can you imagine a Potter or Weasley child being interested in Potions? Snape would've his eyes popped out if the slimy git was still alive”, Ron said after Harry had told him about the strange afternoon. Harry nodded at Ron's words, his mind only half paying half attention to the conversation. He did not care much about James' new-found interest in Potions, considering his parentage and all. What was worrisome was the way Malfoy had interacted with the boy. Weary and careful, very polite, considering he was a Potter. Yet, somehow in the way he explained the testing reactions, there was a subtle hint of pride. And there was the strange glitter in his eyes and those awkward half-aborted gestures. It was as if Malfoy wanted nothing short of touching and holding James. As if he remembered him being his son. But it was a ridiculous notion, he knew that Malfoy did not remember. It was just impossible. He was Obliviated, was he not?

Still, the creeping feeling did not cease, and Harry stopped bringing James to the Ministry.

The day Harry saw James off for Hogwarts for the first time, he was pretty sure he saw a mop of platinum-blond hair in the middle of the crowd at the station. When he returned to the Ministry later that afternoon, he heard that Malfoy had taken a day off.

His mind was wary, but he did not think much of it.

At twenty, James was as excitable as a child half his age at the train station waiting for his first trip to Hogwarts. It was actually not really far from the truth, Harry mused, since it was the day he first started working at the Ministry. As he listened to the young man animatedly reporting his first day at work, he could almost see the story as words excitedly written in the letter his son had sent home after his first day at school.

All of the sudden the excited voice was replaced by pondering, which jolted Harry out of his secret musings.

“There was this one funny thing though...”

“What is it, James?”

“You know the Potions Master Head of the Forensic Department? Tall, platinum blond, I think his name is Malfoy?”

Harry slowly turned to face his son, processing the words his son had just said.

“What did he do to you?”

“I caught him staring at me no less than five times today. Rather unsubtle, too. Like he wants something from me.”

“The prick is probably unnerved that another Potter's going to start working at the Ministry. If he makes any threats to you, tell me immediately, you understand?”

“If only it was a threatening gaze. The way he looked at me was actually more... endearing.”

“Pardon?”

“Like he was overwhelmed when he saw me. You know, like seeing the person you've always wanted to meet?”

For one moment, Harry's heart came to a stop James' words. Then, realising how ridiculous and paranoid he was being, Harry shook his head.

“Since when were you that good at reading people?” he attempted to joke his way out.

“Dunno, I just felt it. Bet it's better than anything _you_ can tell from people”, James bit the bait and smiled back.

“But seriously, if Malfoy ever did anything to you, let me know, all right? He's not exactly one to play fair.”

“... All right, Dad.”

James' wedding was on a beautiful April Sunday, in the homey Weasley backyard. The new bride's family was extremely scandalised when the couple first announced the wedding location. The Warringtons were just about to denounce the wedding when the bride herself, black-haired Diane with her Veela-like smile, blackmailed her own family into acquiescence. Needless to say, she became an instant favourite among the Weasleys despite her being an obvious Slytherin. On the wedding day itself, the girl shocked both families by wearing red and green streaks in her hair, looking audaciously contrasting to her traditional pure white dress. The red streaks would hiss like a snake now and then, while the green ones bounded themselves into a braid that roared on the hour. After the hiss and the roar accidentally sounded off in the middle of the vow and successfully stunned the entire audience for several seconds, James and Diane burst into uncontrollable laughter that was soon joined by the rest of the guests, saving the bride's flushing parents who glared at Harry for long minutes as if he was the one corrupting their daughter. Harry honestly could not care less and vowed solemnly at the reception that 17th April was one of the best days of his life.

The next day when Harry paid a visit to the FD to retrieve a report, he walked pass the empty office of Malfoy and saw the glance of a symbol drawn on the calendar for the 17th April.

Later when he saw the blond head among the Ministry crowd, he recalled that it was the death anniversary of Narcissa Malfoy.

Two years later, when James walked out of the hospital room carrying a small bundle in his arm, Harry broke out into a huge grin when he saw the black mop on the baby's tiny head. He cradled the boy in his arms and rocked him carefully, grandfatherly pride obviously sparkled in his eyes.

“It's almost surreal when I imagine your face looking just like this when you saw mum the first time after I was born”, James mused when he and his father sat by the new mother, finally letting her hold the baby.

Harry just hummed lightly, focusing solely on the sleeping child in her daughter-in-law's arms, not hearing what James had said at all.

When Harry later helped Diane and newly-named Albus down St. Mungo's hall for check-out, he took a glance behind his back and realised that James was born in that very room.

Harry came over to James' London house one day to the sound of chatter in his grandson's nursery. Upon looking inside he found James and his wife playfully argued over Albus' cot, James having a mock hurt face and Diane rolling her eyes while lightly punching his arm.

“Is there something I missed?”

“James was accusing me of cheating on him!” Diane exclaimed quite dramatically.

“I'll have you know that I have concrete evidence for your infidelity, my dear Mrs. Potter”, James played along, pointing an accusing finger at Diane but could not help smirking.

“And what is this so-called evidence you're talking of?” Harry, amused by the little play between the young parents, decided that it was his time to join in.

“This!”, James exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the cot from which Albus' babbles could be heard.

Harry laughed out loud and strolled towards the cot, bending down to pick up the awake boy and presented him to the couple. “What, what could be wrong with this sweet child, who is the perfect proof of the harmonious love between you two? See how his wild black hair and little mouth belongs to a Potter, his sharp nose is definitely of a Warrington, not to mention his blue eye-”

But those were not Diane's blue eyes staring back at him. They were silver.

“See, see how my concrete proof is revealed?” James' voice was booming but his mind failed to register the words. He was trapped in a trance caused by the irregular-coloured eyes. “How can a Warrington-Potter child possess such beautiful silver eyes, unless the mother had been unfaithful?” James continued, but after a while both him and Diane burst into laughter again. They stopped when they realised that Harry had not joined in and was apparently too busy staring at Albus' eyes.

“Don't worry Harry, my great-great-great-great-or-something grandmother was a Malfoy, and since we all know Malfoys are the only one with silver eyes, it must be part of my inheritance. It's not rare for ancient characteristics to show up after some half-dozen generations.” Diane's explanation seemed to brought Harry back and he finally blinked, looking away from Albus. James patted his father's back, assuring him again that it was a joke and there was no way the babe would not be a Potter, did you see that unruly Potter hair of his?

“Dad, I know your relationship with Malfoy wasn't the best in school, but don't you dare say things about Diane just because she's remotely related to him. Besides, it's not the worst thing being related to Malfoy, you know?”

And Harry nodded, yes he did know. He had been the father of someone related to Malfoy for twenty-two years.

* * *

**Part 4:**

It was a dark December afternoon when Diane's barn owl came knocking furiously at Harry's closed window. Harry startled, he had been too concentrated on a case report for the past half an hour to pay attention to much else. The shivering bird swooped into the room and immediately perched on the chair closest to the fireplace, all the while giving Harry the mightiest glare. Harry apologised to the bird with a smile even when she pecked at his hand violently as he reached towards the scroll at her foot.

His smile died right away when he read the letter. He jumped towards the fireplace and Flooed immediately to St. Mungo's.

Albus was in an accident.

Already waiting for him at the hospital lobby was a Mediwitch obviously assigned as his personal escort. Harry wordlessly followed the witch to the Paediatrics Department, where Diane was already pacing restlessly in front of a room, her face pale and teary. Upon seeing Harry, she stopped moving altogether and her beautiful face crumbled in fear. She did not stop crying when Harry embraced her soothingly, nor did she when James rushed in half an hour later. In the mean time, the men kept an intense glare at the generic white door as if they could will it to open. After what felt like hours, a plump smiley Healer emerged and announced that the boy was all fine. She assured the family that while the boy was submerged in the cold river for almost five minutes, he was dragged out of danger before any serious damage could happen, that he was soundly sleeping now but would wake up in just a bit if they wanted to see him. The joy they all felt was too raw and overwhelming and each got a little teary all over again. Harry felt immensely relieved when he saw Albus' eyes fluttered open to the bright light of the room. The boy sent an annoyed frown at the Mediwitches cooing at the door while he had his life squeezed out of him by his three protective parents and grandparent. Harry later caught a small smirk on the boy's face and realised that they had all forgotten to scold the boy for being reckless.

Later, when Albus dozed off once more, though Harry bet that he was only faking it to avoid the constant attention, the adults left the room and really breathed out in relief. Only then did they take in the presence of a young Auror waiting for them patiently in the corridor, looking as if he did not know if it was acceptable to interrupt the emotional moment of the Potter family. When Harry beckoned him towards them, the man seemed obviously relieved. He greeted them politely and asked the family to follow him, all the while recounting details of the accident. Apparently Albus' kindergarten class had a field trip down the river bank this morning. One moment when the teachers were looking elsewhere, the boy had ventured down the river with a couple of other children. It seemed to be purely an accident, but Albus fell into the river and was quickly submerged due to the strong current, even though the boy did know how to swim. While the teachers were calling for help and trying to calm the other children down, a man had jumped into the river after the child. After a while struggling with the current, he was able to bring the boy to shore. Fortunately the boy, while stiff frozen and hardly breathing, still had his heartbeat and was taken to St. Mungo's as fast as possible.

“And where is his saviour, may I ask?” Diane said with feelings after spending a long moment expressing gratitude to the unknown man.

Not answering, the Auror paused in front of a room, opened the room and gestured inside. All the three adults gasped at a lone naked figure lying on a metal table, covered from the chest down with a white sheet. The bony shoulders and thin neck, as well as the sides of a pale face were soiled with blood clots and bruise. The blond hair was matted with blood and the room was utterly quiet.

“We speculate that by the time Albus was brought to shore, Mr. Malfoy was already exhausted from the current strength and the cold water. Apparently there was a fallen log travelling downstream aiming at his direction, but we don't think he was in any mind to pay attention to it. According to witnesses, it hit him at the back of his head right after the child was out of the water. It is likely that the impact killed him immediately.”

Later, when Ron and Hermione had come by and listened to the entire story, Ron patted on Harry's shoulder sympathetically. “Such an irony, mate, after all that hatred between the two of you over the years, it was Malfoy that ended up saving your grandson's life. Guess the ferret did have a heart too.”

Such irony indeed, Harry thought himself, all the while trying to forget the colour of Malfoy's lifeless eyes.

Later still, once the excitement of the day had somewhat died down, Harry finally addressed the disturbing little detail that had been bothering him all day.

“What the hell happened to your hair?”, he said, pointing quite rudely at his son's golden locks.

“I was on a mission when Albus' news came, must have been struck by some spell when I was distracted”, James answered absent-mindedly, his hair colour the least of his concern right now. The man muttered something about silly protecting spell that changed people's hair for no apparent reasons, waved good night to his father and Apparated away, not seeing the strange gleam in the older man's eyes as he stared at the all too familiar colour.

A week later, Harry was unsurprised, but still disturbed, when he saw that the blond hair had remained. No matter what kind of spells he used, James said, he could not get back his original brown colour, unless he considered dyeing. Somewhere in the background Diane chirped in, saying she loved the new blond head, thus James was content with keeping it this way. When Albus pointed out that his daddy looked like the man that saved him, everyone was even a bit mournful.

But then James came to the quiet funeral of Draco Malfoy, a pitiful ceremony with only a handful of people. He took a glimpse at the photo of the blond man, remembered his son's silver eyes, and wondered.

It was an absolutely ordinary day when James received an owl from Malfoy's solicitor asking for an appointment. He was at first reluctant to come, certain that it had something to do with the last Lord saving his son's life, but when the next owl assured him that it just concerned the Lord's will which was made years before the unfortunate accident, he felt more at ease. That was, until he stood in front of the office and wondered why the hell a Malfoy's will would concern him in any way.

The meeting, strangely enough, only consisted of James, a law assistant as the witness and the solicitor himself, a methodical-looking man with peppered grey hair and discretion imprinted on his very aura. The will was short and straight to the point, stating that since Draco Malfoy was the last Lord without a legal heir, he was free to choose whomever he wished to inherit the Malfoy fortune. Such chosen person was to be Mr. James Sirius Potter and any children he may bear. The inheritance consisted of vaults in Gringotts and many estates, including the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. He may or may not wish to keep the Lord title, which obviously was of no concern to the previous Lord. The will seemed legit and the paperworks all looked legal. It did not seem to be a bad joke or a trap of any kind, James concluded when he read through the papers. What puzzled him beyond all else, as well as the reason he asked for more time to decide on the matter, was the motive of this all. Why did Draco Malfoy choose him as his heir? It was not explained in the will and the solicitor, when asked, gave no opinion of his own, years of working for ancient pureblood families had proven that it was not his place to question the clients' wishes.

Diane was equally confused when he told her that night but also did not see this as strictly a bad thing. Draco Malfoy had been anything but a scheming plotter for the last two decades of his life. He was solitary and quiet unless work was involved. He had worked his well-earned way to the top of his department using nothing but his skills and talents. He had no scandals of any kind nor trouble with the Ministry whatsoever. It was hard to look at the man and imagine him planting a huge trap for the son of an old school rival for no apparent reason. Still, they agreed that caution was necessary and had the estates and heirlooms checked for curses. After half a year of no negative reports, they decided to accept the will, half-convincing themselves that Malfoy had chosen James due to his relation with the distant cousin Diane Warrington but had forgotten to mention it in the will.

Somehow it slipped both of their minds to inform their families about the inheritance. Unsurprisingly, both were subjected to Howlers first thing in the morning from their respective families on the day the announcement was made on the _Daily Prophet_ , one with 'how could you accept something from a no-good Death Eater scumbag?' and another 'how could you accept the vaults of the prestigious Malfoy without telling us?'. None of the Howlers, however, was remotely comparable to the furious Harry Potter stomping through their Floo. Their father was enraged, loudly voicing his opinions on their sudden decision. He sounded much betrayed when he questioned them, was it not worth discussing with their families beforehand and preventing everyone of a heart attack in the form of a _Prophet_ article so early in the morning? Harry as good as destroyed half of their sitting room with his wild magic before barely calming down in the presence of a frightened Albus. James was not surprised by his father's reaction, but was mildly concerned by its extend: it was more extreme than anything he had ever seen, one that could not be explained by school rivalry alone. He knew that his father was horribly displeased with his decision and it would be so much easier to follow his will. However, strangely enough, James wanted the inheritance, not for its many gold vaults nor endless estates nor invaluable heirlooms, but just pure want, like a child wishing for his first cycling lesson. Somewhere deep in his mind told him that he deserved it, for what reasons he could not tell.

So, against the rage of the families and the inferno in his father's eyes, James signed the papers and moved into the Malfoy Manor in December. It was two days before the death anniversary of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**Part 5:**

The moment the front door opened and Harry came face to face with James, he knew that there was something terribly wrong. James, with his golden hair and intense green eyes, stared at his father's face with an almost suffocating concentration, as if he was interrogating him with his gaze. For once, Harry could not recognise the emotions swirling in his son's eyes. James' feelings had always been easy to read, at least to his father. It was always a decent mixture of adoration, respect and sympathy. The occasional rows they had mostly in his younger days were always coupled with an incredibly short-lived anger, which was shocking, considering the fierce and stubborn nature that was identical in both father and son. Harry, having not witnessed such anger in a long time, was all the more suprised when he saw such fury in his son's eyes. It made him feel like there was a hole being drilled at his skull, all the while give him a nagging reminder somewhere in his head as he tried to recall the familiarity in those eyes.

James' voice was surprisingly normal and unlike his eyes, did nothing to betray his feelings. His welcoming Harry into the Manor was warm as always, same were his greetings and small talks as they walked down the corridor to the sitting room.

Only when they went passed the rows of disapproving Malfoy portraits did Harry remember. The fury James was harbouring was identical to that he once saw in Malfoy's eyes years ago when they were still schoolboys. Those were quite unpleasant memories, however, and Harry quickly swallowed them down like a particularly bitter potion.

Dinner was a strange affair. On the surface, it was no different from any weekly dinner Harry had with his son's family. Diane's roast was as delicious as Molly used to make, Albus still chattered all the way through the meal, completely ignoring his manners and at one time almost spilled his entire glass of juice. James still grinned at his son conspiratorially as Diane scowled, shaking her head and sending Harry pleading looks, as if she was begging him to just Apparate her idiots of a son and husband somewhere far away. Despite all of this, the laughter of Albus and the motherly scolding of Diane could not hide the fact that sometimes James seemed to be all too silent, slipping into a hard mask now and then when he thought no one was looking. Harry found this odd and silently reminded himself to question him, or at least Diane later, as it was no proper manner in the presence of company. For the moment, he feigned ignorance and laughed along his grandson, the grim face on his son's face never quite vanished in the corner of his eyes.

After dessert, as usual when Harry came to visit, Albus quickly claimed the space next to his grandfather's side on the couch and begged him to tell a story about his Hogwarts days. Albus had always been more fascinated with Harry's heroic tales than his father ever was. Initially, Harry did start with a more truthful version of the stories, complete with all the faults and wrongdoings he committed. However, as Albus was quick to dismiss the thought that his grandfather could do any wrong, Harry began to gradually and unconsciously removed the more insignificant details and added more little white lies, eventually weaving a completely perfect image of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had never thought it was wrong; after all, what was some fabrication in a children's story? As Harry held his steaming cup of coffee in his hand, trying to keep it from spilling and looking fondly at his grandson, James suddenly appeared by their side. The blond placed a hand on his son's shoulder and asked him to go up to his room.

“But Daddy, I want to hear Grandpa's story of the Chamber of Secrets!”, Albus pouted and snuggled up to Harry, confident that his childish act would gain him what he wanted. James, like Harry, was hardly a strict parent and had always yielded easily.

“Come on, Albus, you can listen to your story next time, all right? Daddy needs to talk to Grandpa now.” James pressed once again, his already-existing grimace darkened and his brows furrowed in annoyance. There was a small hitch in Albus' breath and Harry thought he saw James' grip on his shoulder tightened a little bit more.

“But Daaaaaaddd!!! Grandpa won't be here til next Friday! Please, Daddy, please?”

“I said now, Albus Severus Potter!” James' sudden thunder-like voice startled both grandfather and grandson. Harry stared at his crumbled harsh face in shock, finding himself slightly afraid of his son. Albus' expression had almost frozen, the boy was rarely called by his full name unless he was in trouble; it was also the first time he saw his father in such rage. He buried into Harry's flank and tears started to glimmer in his eyes

“James!” Harry glared up at his son, his voice stern. Angry or not, it was no excuse to take it out on an innocent child. He started to feel pretty angry himself. “Don't you dare have that attitude in front of me. If you are upset with me, then talk to me, do not take it out on your son.” Harry gave his son his most displeased look, but was surprised by the lack of change in James' expression. The man was still glaring at him with what looked like quiet fire in his eyes, so foreign an emotion it triggered in Harry that his own flame was temporarily extinguished, in spite of Albus' little whimpers at his hip.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Diane strolled in from the kitchen with her hands still damp from washing dishes the Muggle way, having heard voices raised from the sitting room. She took one quick glance at the three men, her eyes rested the longest on James' face, then she walked towards Harry's couch and brushed her hand on her husband's, which was still digging into their son's shoulder. James broke the eye contact with his father for just a second, sparing his wife a glance, then resumed the glaring, but his hand let go of the boy and Albus let out a small squeal. Diane's face softened when she leaned towards her son, quietly coaxing him to come with her, a gentle command. Albus finally turned to look at his mother from the safe haven of his grandfather's arm, his eyes hesitating, but then thought better. The boy disentangled himself from the old man and climbed down the couch towards his mother's arms. Diane held him in her arms, all her attention on him as she patted the back of his black hair soothingly while he whimpered into her shoulder. All of the sudden, her eyes glanced towards Harry's direction and there was a strange expression on her face as if she could not decide whether to be polite or to be upset at him. In the end, she scowled lightly and scooped her son up, unsteady at first, then she turned towards the hallway, taking the boy up to his bedroom. As she passed by James, she lingered a hand on his shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. James raised up a hand and covered hers, his grip a bit too tight, but he eventually let her go.

The sound of Diane's footsteps became fainter and when a wooden door closed somewhere in the house, James walked towards the opposite sofa and dropped himself down rather rudely. Still glaring, still frowning at his father. After that the room was still, silent but for the suddenly too loud chiming of a grandfather's clock, one of those pretentious Malfoy antiques. Not even their breaths could be heard, nor the usual stomping and shouting of Albus in his room. Diane was probably up there, trying to keep their son quiet. The silence was of the unnerving kind, heavy like air before a storm, just waiting for the first strike or thunder as the sign of violence.

Eventually it was James who spoke first. “You should stop telling Albus those stories, dad.”

So that was what James was so upset about all dinner? Honestly, James could be disapproval at the tiniest thing, a trait not inherited from Harry at all. He chuckled. “They are just silly children's tales, James, nothing for you to be alarmed about-”

“They're full of lies.” There was no change in his expression whatsoever.

“Just a couple of white lies to make the story more interesting. It's not like it could hurt anybody.”

James lapsed back into silence, and for some reasons Harry did not think that it was really about the stories at all.

At one point, James' difficult face on the sofa morphed into Malfoy's, who used to sit on the very same sofa decades ago. The blond hair, the posture, the furrowed eyebrows were suddenly all so familiar. Somehow, the clock chiming pulled Harry out of the memory like a Portkey and he blinked, not sure if James had said anything during his daydream. By the look of the stiff posture, that seemed not to be the case. Still, the atmosphere was wearing Harry down, and since his son did not seem to plan to talk any time soon, he finally spoke, the sound seemed to break the fragile glass case surrounding them both.

“Look, James, if you have something to tell me, do so. You were all but lashing at Albus earlier, why keep silent now when you can finally talk to me without others' presence?”  
Harry heard his son's not-so-subtle hitched breath. James did not look taken aback when he heard his father's words, more like he did not realise that Harry required a speech to understand whatever it was that had been hanging over them all evening. He finally lowered his gaze down to the carpet and let out a heavy sigh, burrowing his fingers into his hair, a sign of distress that he inherited from his father. For a long moment, James said nothing, but then he stood up from the sofa, walked up to a cupboard and opened one of the shelves. The door effectively blocked off the content of the shelf, but Harry could hear glass or ceramic clinking as James rummaged through them. After a while, he retrieved two considerable-sized boxes and brought them towards Harry. He dropped the boxes on the coffee table between them and returned to his seat. James slowly opened one of them and, to Harry's surprise, revealed a Pensive. James moved on to open the other, which was full of small vials of silvery memories. For a while, James just stared at the vials in silent, which did nothing more to explain the situation. When Harry finally decided to ask, James suddenly looked up.

What Harry saw was a heartbreaking streak of pain across his son's eyes and it felt like he really did break something very fragile in this very room.

“I do not appreciate my son being close to a liar.”

Then, tapping the Pensive and giving the vials an almost mournful look, James stood up and walked out of the room, leaving behind his very puzzled father.

“Is James home?”

Diane looked at the panicked face of her father-in-law floating in the green flames with blank eyes. “No, he's not back yet.”

She heard him groaned pitifully into the flame, agitated that the fact that he had not been able to reach his son for the last three days. He was about to pull out of the fireplace before turning back abruptly, as if just recalling something.

“Diane, you remember last Friday when I came for dinner?”

“Yes?”

“Do you, erm, perhaps recall that James and I-”

"Yes, Harry, I do remember that you had a talk with James.”

“Do you know what James give-”

“Sorry to cut in again Harry, but I do know the details of your conversation.”

An almost relief sound. “Can you tell me where he got these things?”

“...Actually, why don't you just come through? It'll be easier.”

The moment Harry stepped through, Diane was bombarded with a string of exclamations that was so uncharacteristic of her father-in-law.

“I don't know what it is that James told you about them, but these, urgh, 'memories' that he gave me, are all bunch of bollocks! Clearly it was just another pathetic trick by Malfoy to get at me, I can't believe that he still aims to do that after his death, the bastard! You know how much rivalry was involved with us back in Hog-”

“Please shut up.”

Harry's next words hanged in his mouth unvoiced. He stared at the black-haired woman in shock; she had never once been so rude to him. Cheeky, cunning, Slytherin-like, that was Diane, but never rude. His daughter-in-law looked at him as if he was a strange man, and when she turned away he could swear there was a flash of disgust on her face. Before Harry could speak another word, however, she had quietly walked out to the hallway.

“Follow me.”

Annoyed and furious, Harry considered ignoring the woman. Still, when she continued on her way down the hall and bore no interest in whether he followed her or not, he grumbled to himself in irritation, then followed her through the hallway, catching her before she made a turn at the end of a staircase. They walked quietly up the marble steps, neither making an effort to break the uncomfortable silence. Once they were on the second floor, Diane turned into a corridor and finally stopped in front of one of the doors. She abruptly turned around to look at Harry, as if telling him 'this was it'. He gave her a questioning look that went unanswered, but approached the door anyway. Once he was sure that the woman did not intend to follow him, he opened the door and entered the room.

What inside was an old nursery. Soft toys on shelves and in opened trunks. Charmed magical animals running on colourfully painted walls. Soft blue carpet underneath his feet. A wide window looking out to the Manor grounds, facing a small lake and the forest afar. A cupboard full of baby things, clothing and napkins and potions. A few books on an old rocking chair. A cot in the middle of the room, green and white and looking untouched.

On the headboard was an engraved 'Scorpius'.

* * *

**Part 6:**

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Harry looked up from his swirling glass of Firewhiskey to the rather blurry blond head and harsh green eyes. He blinked, not sure if it was yet another of those alcohol-induced dreams that he had been having a lot recently. Even he could tell that he was drinking too much lately although he could not seem to stop himself from doing so. Ginny was the one who used to tell him what he ought and ought not to do, a task James later took up when she was gone. But Ginny was no longer here, and apparently, neither was James. James had not been to Godric's Hollow for months, hell, he had not even talked to him ever since that disastrous evening. It had been James' punishment to him, Harry knew it. They had never gone on one week without talking to each other no matter how trivial the conversation. The lack of James in his life hurt so much, it was a pain that only alcohol seemed to subdue.

But James was here now. He was in the sitting room of Godric's Hollow once again, standing in front of him in the flesh. When James sat down on the couch opposite of him, Harry almost thought that he was finally forgiven, albeit to a crime he did not commit; after all, there was no crime.

“Were you ever going to let me know that I had another parent? Or that Albus had another grandfather?”

“Albus did not have another grandfather. I'm his grandfather, Ginny, who is _your mother_ , is his grandmother.”

“I'm fully aware that she was my mother, but that was no excuse for leaving my father out of my life like this!”

“Don't call him your father-”

“But he was my father, was he not? He carried me for more than nine months. He was the one whose hands I kicked when I was still unborn. He was the one who sang and talked to me. He was the one who fucking gave birth to me!”

“He was nothing but a Malfoy. He was the one that tormented me, your aunts and uncles for years; he was the one who tried to kill Dumbledore; he was the one who let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, hell, he was a Death Eater himself. He was the shameless slut that had been staring at my arse for months even when he knew I was happily married to your mother. He had never deserved you, James...”

“Stop! Don't, don't you _dare_ say that about him! And I know who Malfoy was, dad. I know what he did in school, how his family's belief led him to prejudice against you and our family. I know how he could not kill Dumbledore in the end. I know that he despised Voldermort and being his slave, but had no choice if he wanted to save his parents. I know how much he desired you, but never acted on it because he knew you were deeply committed to mother.”

“How did you know all of these things?!”

“It's not like you're ever going to tell me yourself, so I just took my liberty to find things out myself. Turns out Albus' namesakes have quite an interesting story to tell. Both of them were very willing to talk when they saw me. They knew who my parents were the moment they saw me. Is that why unlike Rose and Hugo and all my cousins, you never let me go into the Headmistress' office?”

“You talked to Dumbledore and Snape?!”

“The Malfoy house elves were quite willing to talk too, what's with them being bound to the Malfoy lineage and cannot lie to the mansion's master. It probably helped as well that they recognised me as father's heir the moment we returned to the ancestral house. And we both know that those Pensieve memories were not altered.”

“Just because you've seen his memories of nine months doesn't mean you know the man, James.”

“Just because you've known him since he was eleven doesn't mean you _know_ him more than me!”

“Regardless of what you claim to believe, it does not mean any of us should forgive him for all his wrongdoing, you know that.”

“So what, was I his punishment?”

“He didn't even know you existed, James!”

“Isn't that because _you_ Obliviated him? And for all the things you claim to know, did you know that you manage to miss the biggest thing of all?”

James was suddenly leaning towards him and stared at him straight in the eyes. Harry flinched, seeing his own son so threatening.

Then, he flinched again and felt as if someone was ripping his heart out when he saw tears trickling down James' angled face. His son was crying.

“Draco Malfoy, he remembered.”

For one moment, Harry felt like laughing. _That's absurd!,_ he wanted to say, but words could not come out of his mouth. Not when James had leaned back against the couch and was still crying. Then he remembered the Pensive and vials of memories churning inside, their silvery content glittering like mercury. He remembered Malfoy talking to a younger James over shimmering cauldrons. He remembered James noticing Malfoy's stares. And he remembered Albus' accident and the cold body on the metal bed. At this point, James were no longer looking at him. He had stood up and turned towards the fireplace, turning his back against his dad, the man he had practically worshiped for the better part of his life. Just like the day his dad turned away from his father more than twenty years ago with him in arms, never to return again.

As the flame in the fireplace burst into life, Harry heard his son's quiet voice speaking into the fire:

“I was never born out of love, was I? Because you did not love him. After all those times when you told me about how your mother's love keeping you alive, don't you think the same could have been said about me?”

And then, James was gone.

James never spoke to him again.

There was no more Friday dinner invitations. His owls were never replied no matter how many letters he wrote to his son. Only Diane sent back curt replies when it was something urgent, while Albus answered him in his careless childish manner that was poor substitution to his son. Godric's Hollow was blocked from Malfoy Manor's Floo network and the only attempt Harry made to come visit via The Burrow's Floo, the Manor's ward howled like a siren at the intrusion and James only nearly missed hexing his father as Harry hastily retreated.

James did not tell him when he was hexed with an Unforgivable during one of his stake-outs and had to stay in St. Mungo's for nearly a month.

James did not tell him when he and Diane found out about her second pregnancy. He did not inform him when the baby was born, nor did he tell him their decision on the boy's name.

James did not tell him when he carved new words onto his father's grave by hand.

James did not tell him when he found out that his wedding day was his grandmother's death anniversary. He did not tell him that instead of going to Italy as they had planned, that year he took Albus and his newborn son to their great-grandmother's grave and cried into Diane's soft hair as they listened to the old house elves' stories of the last Lady Malfoy.

Gradually, people started to realise the estrangement between father and son. Ron and Hermione were the first one to voice their concern, “Was that why you started drinking and locked yourself in the Hollow for months?”. A worried Molly Apparated into his home one day to ask about James' injury then tried to console him when all he did was gave her a shocked look and burst into tears. The Warringtons were mildly surprised when James did not talk to his father at all during their yearly Christmas parties. Then it was his friends who were puzzled when Harry did not even know of his second grandson's existence. Ministry employers eventually found out that James stopped coming to functions that Harry was bound to attend. They all tried to talk to him. They all tried to talk to James. But still, James refused to look at his dad in the eyes.

The only consoling thought was that Harry was still allowed to see his grandsons. Harry felt like someone had stabbed him when he finally knew of the baby boy's birth and rushed to the hospital just to find out that Diane was about to be checked out. But still, James had allowed him to hold the new baby, albeit grudgingly. They saw each other at Christmas brunch every year at The Burrow. Each time Albus complained loudly that he no longer saw his granddad around any more, James would turn away, face hardened, and Harry would feel like dying a little more.

Once, he finally burst into tears in front of his son.

“Are you ever going to look at me again, James?”

Even then, James did not look at him. He only walked pass him as if he had heard nothing at all. Until he paused briefly next to Harry and whispered quickly,

“Does it hurt that your own son does not acknowledge you?”

Harry really knew that this time, it was his punishment.

Underneath the night-stand in the master bedroom, there was a metal ring laying still. A fine layer of dust had settled on it from being untouched for years.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

“Daddy?”

“Yes Scorp?”

“Where did you come from?”

“Why, I thought the common question would be where _you_ came from?”

“Nah, that was the theme question for last month already. This month's dare is 'the birth of our parents'!”

“All right then, you little crups. You know how much mum and dad love one another?”

“Yes, dad, and ew, don't go into details, baby Scorp here is too young to know all of that!”

“Hey, I'm not a baby! And I'm old enough!”

“Of course you're not. Anyway, once there was a man who loved grandpa as much as mum loves me. He loved him so much that one day, he was gifted with a small baby. He carried that baby for nine months in his belly, much like how mum used to carry you two-”

“Really?! We were in mum's belly? How did Al even fit in there, he's an elephant!”

“Hey, I'm not, pipsqueak!”

“... As I was saying, the baby was in that man's belly, until one day the baby was big enough, then he gave birth to the baby, and that baby was me.”

“Who was that man, dad, and how come we never meet him?”

“Maybe he's dead, like grandma. Is the man dead, daddy?”

“… Yes, he is. But Albus, you've already met him once when he was still alive. Remember that time when you fell into a river and almost drowned?”

“Yes, though I don't remember much of it. Was he there? Did he save me or something?”

“Yes, yes he did.”

“Wow, cool! So my secret grandpa actually saved me?”

“That's not fair! How come Al got to meet him and I didn't? I wanna meet my secret grandpa too!”

“Actually, we're all living in his house. He was buried in the cemetery near the Northern gate.”

“Was he? Me and Scorp were out there this morning. There were lots of fancy gravestones out there, with lots of words on them. But there was this one with just a flower, and another simple one that said, uh, Dra... Dragon... Lucy... Malfoy... Potter?”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy-Potter.”

“Yes, that's the one. That's the one with the least words, except for the flower stone. It looked fairly new too, so maybe that was grandpa? Is that right, dad?”

“Yes, very good Al.”

“Daddy, is that where you got my middle name?”

“That's right, Scorpius.”

“But it's still too bad we didn't know about him before. How come no one tells us stories about him? I've heard lots about grandma Ginny and grandpa Harry, how come there are no stories about grandpa Draco?”

“That's because my aunts and uncles didn't know enough about him. Shall I tell you his stories then? How about that time when grandpa Draco's findings led to the capture of a very dangerous criminal that had not been discovered for three years?...”

* * *

**From the Pensieve:**

_Vial #2.3.1:_

_'Well, here it goes. This baby diary, or whatever it is this is called. The whole idea is ridiculous, I tell you, it is impossible to imagine a Malfoy doing something so... peasant. And affectionate. Well, we are affectionate, just that we decide not to rub that into the face of the public. Pansy will laugh at me to death if she knows I'm doing this. If she's still talking to me that is.'_

_'But anyway, welcome to life, my child. I'm aware that you're not born yet, but it's very likely that I won't be around much to welcome you to life when that happens. It's disappointing, really. My father cried when I was born, or so I was told. It's hard to imagine Lucius Malfoy doing something so emotional. And that's your grandfather to you, by the way. Though I suspect you won't know that as you grow up.'_

_'As of this moment I'm the only one who knows of your existence, but I will tell your dad tomorrow. He'll want me to check again, of course, just in case I'm lying. I've lied to him quite a lot over the years, it's quite reasonable that he acts paranoid at times. Not that he has never lied to me before.'_

_'Technically you're only a week old. Which doesn't say much, really, since you don't even look human at the moment. But be certain that I already love you. Your dad loves you too, you know, once he finds out. Just know this, my child, that even though we may love you for entire different reasons, we will always want the best for you. You are our world, you always are.'_

_Vial #4.3.1:_

“… _Yes, darling, it's been confirmed ...”_

“… _went with him to the clinic today, I saw the image and everything ...”_

“… _a copy and come back to you right after …”_

“ _... too early to tell yet, darling, we won't be able to tell …”_

“… _can't wait too ...”_

“… _as soon as the child's born, then I'll Obliviate …”_

“… _Of course. I hate to imagine him as you …”_

“… _it's our child, Ginny …”_

“… _we deserve it, you deserve it ...”_

“… _anything for you, my love. I'm on my way.”_

“ _Potter?”_

“ _You're still awake?”_

“… _No, just now. Who called?”_

“ _Kingsley.”_

“ _It's midnight.”_

“ _Emergency arrest. I've gotta go.”_

“ _Slave-driver.”_

“ _Good night, babe.”_

“ _Be careful.”_

“ _Good night to you too, Draco.”_

_Vial #25.3.1:_

_'So, you’ve been with me for 2 months now, kid. Not the best 2 months of my life, I tell you, you torturous little thing. No sleeping, no seafood, constant vomiting and mood swings. What in the world was I thinking?! If only I’d known how horrifying this whole experience would be, bearing a tiny person inside me, I would never have followed your dad’s wish, no matter how much he begs. Huh, I should’ve made Harry Potter beg, it’ll at least make me feel marginally better. And where the bloody hell is he, anyway? Oh, that’s right, he’s home playing house with his dear little wife. The git doesn’t even have the courtesy to hang around when I puke my guts up carrying his beloved child. It’s like he still wants to piss me off after all these years. Well, screw him I’ll say, as if what he does can hurt me anyway.’_

‘ _I did see it coming, after all.’_

_Vial #17.4.1:_

_Late morning, uncharacteristically cool and dark. Sunlight was unable to penetrate the unseasonal thick blanket of suffocating clouds. Draco and Harry were standing in a more secluded part of the Manor's garden. The burial ground part, to be exact. Particularly, in front of a rather new gravestone, on which was the engraving of a simple narcissus. There was no name on the stone._

“ _She used to have a normal gravestone before this. With her name and the dates and everything. Like one of those more traditional ones. Like that one,” Draco was pointing at the grave on their right. The grave of one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy._

“ _I found her diary a couple years after her passing. Somewhere in there she mentioned she wanted a different kind of gravestone. Said she did not want to have either Malfoy or Black on it, she did not want a family name. Just a narcissus, her namesake, you know?”._ _Draco murmured in a quiet voice. Neither sad nor happy. Almost expressionless, his eyes were glued onto the stone flower, his hair fluttered softly with the breeze. Indication that he had given up on grieving her long ago._

“ _Mother wanted to be remembered by her name." Almost as if he was reminding himself._

“ _She saved my life that one time, you know? In front of Voldermort.”_

“ _I know.”_

_The wind was howling._

“S _he was the most important person in my life.”_

_Early evening, still cool and cloudy. A blond head was leaning against a black one, fingers of different owners loosely entwined together on the sofa._

“ _Thanks for coming to see mother with me today, Harry.” A moment of weakness, because Draco never used his first name, ever._

“ _I've lost people I loved too, I know what it feels like.”_

“ _It was always just me before. Standing in front of her grave, their graves. It is surprisingly frightening to face it by myself.” Another moment of weakness, because Draco never admitted fear._

“ _That's horrible. No one should ever face that alone.”_

“ _Too bad I'm not Harry Potter, I don't come with a clan of red-heads clucking at my feet.”_

“ _No, I suppose you're not. Want me to come next year then?”_

“ _You want to?”_

“ _Like I said, no one should face this alone.”_

“ _I'll have you warned that it's also the shittiest day of my life, so don't expect me to be on good behaviour. I'll likely insult you more than usual.”_

“ _You've been on excellent behaviour all day, so that one is an empty thread to me. And since when don't you insult me?”_

“ _Point. All right then.”_

“ _Mm.”_

“ _Thanks again.”_

_Late evening. There was a lone blond tucked in the blanket._

_'Liar.'_

_Vial # 19.5.1:_

‘ _Here’s a thought: who would you look like? Would you have your dad’s beautiful green eyes or my silver ones? Would your hair be blond or untameably dark brown? Would you have the Malfoy’s sharp nose and the Potter’s tanned skin? Would you be short-tempered and brave, would you be arrogant and loud? Would your dad love you still if you happen to be a Slytherin? Would anyone say anything if the Potter child has blond hair?’_

‘ _I’m afraid I can’t help if you become a little snake, but if it’s just a matter of your appearance, then there is actually something I can do. A present from your father to help you along the way, to prevent any future discomfort on your part in case the media finds you too Malfoy-like in looks. A rare spell to help wives conceal their affairs, in case the child they bear has no resemblance to their husband. Hand-me-down in some pureblood families, surprisingly never in the Malfoy, we don't usually produce females. I picked it up from Millicent when she tried to practice it at night in the common room. I don’t have access to the Weasley’s magical signature, so all I can do is make you look like a Potter, but that should be good enough. I’ll work on it next time your dad stops by.’_

_Vial #5.6.1:_

“ _I can't believe you don't remember!”_

“ _Geez, Ginny, you didn't actually expect me to remember such trivial things, did you?”_

_Draco had been walking towards Harry's office, in hand a thick report, when he heard the not-really-discreet conversation from the bare slit of the office door. For a moment, he looked conflicted, wondering if it was rude to barge into the room despite him having a completely legitimate reason to._

“ _But Harry, it's his birthday.”_

_Draco dropped his hand from the door handle. He stood back, frowning. And stepped to the side of the entrance, leaning against the wall, waiting._

“ _He didn't even tell me that it was today. Doesn't look like he expects anything from me.”_

“ _We're talking about Malfoy here, Harry. He obviously expects you to know already.”_

“ _Since when does the git expect me to know anything?”_

“ _Since you started going out with him, of course.”_

“ _We're not going out, Ginny!”_

“ _Still. You should stop by his place a little tonight. Make him feel loved at least.”_

“ _I don't love him, so what's there to make him feel? Plus, Ron and Mione are having a double date with us tonight, remember? Celebrating their first night away from baby Rose and all.”_

“ _Fine. At least send him something. A small gift perhaps?”_

“ _I really don't think I want to send him anything.”_

“ _Come on Harry, you know that it doesn't hurt to pamper him a bit. He is carrying our child, after all. It's only fair you pay attention to him a little.”_

“ _... Fine. But it's only because the prick will feel more obligated to the baby.”_

“ _That's the spirit, now go get him something. What about one of those couple rings down at Maye? Bet he'll love sharing a pair with you.”_

“ _Does that mean I'll have to wear the damn ring too? You know I hate accessories.”_

“ _Won't it be weird that you don't wear the couple ring when you've given one to him?”_

“ _You know what's weird here, Ginny? You giving tips to my affair. And you never give me any suggestions when it comes to your gifts. That's so unfair.”_

“ _But then it won't be fair to me if I'd already known what my gift was going to be!”_

_The feminine giggle that followed blocked out Draco's mutter to himself:_

“ _None of this is fair to any of us, Ginevra.”_

_Late that night, an owl arrived at his bedroom window, carrying with it a small parcel. Inside was a green velvet box used for couple's rings with only one metal ring inside, telling him its counterpart had been taken out. The ring was carved with small scales and had a shiny green jewel attached at the front, a poor attempt in mimicking a snake. Wedged in the slit for the absent ring was a tiny piece of paper, a hastily scribbled note saying “Happy birthday, Draco”._

_He spent entire hours staring at the note, then the box, then the ring itself. Finally, at near dawn, he slipped the ring onto his left ring finger and tucked the note into the pillowcase of the unoccupied pillow by his head._

“ _Of all the people who remember my birthday, it has to be you hasn't it, Ginevra.”_

_He curved up on his side, held the pillow up to his chest and cried himself to sleep._

_Vial #15.6.1:_

_Draco was walking down the laneways of Diagon Alley, heading towards the Apothecary. The streets were quickly emptying due to a sudden bout of shower, still Draco walked ahead in a hurry, his right arm partially covering his head. As he turned the corner to his destination, he abruptly stopped and stared at a shop's window. An accessory shop, rather popular with teenage girls and morose-looking witches who believed a shiny earring or two could help them gain some attraction. Right in the corner of the display shelf, partially hidden and less conspicuous than the more sparkling charmed diamonds at the front, were a pair of rings sitting in their green velvet box. Each carved with small scales and had a shiny green jewel attached at the front, a poor attempt in mimicking a snake. Ideal gift for a Slytherin couple._

_For one moment, Draco just stared at the rings, his fingers absently toying with the ring on his left hand. Then he let go of his finger and closed his eyes, continuing on his way. The look in his eyes was neither sad nor angry. It was just understanding. And a quiet resignation._

_Vial #5.7.1:_

_Draco and Harry were in the lift going down. The day was hot and Harry had taken off his robe, hanging it on his left arm while his right hand absent-mindedly unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. From his side, Draco was watching the unconscious display with a hungry glint, his eyes openly travelled down part of the bare chest. He stopped, however._

“ _Where's your ring?”_

“ _What ring?”_

“ _What do you mean 'What ring'?”_

“ _...Ohhh. Yes. Our ring. In my other pants' pocket. Couldn't wear them today, Ron and Mione were around for lunch and I didn't want them to see.”_

“ _Oh.”_

“ _Don't look like that, you know we have to be discreet.”_

“ _'Course I do. Doesn't stop me from wearing mine.”_

“ _You don't have nosey friends and families to question strange rings hanging off your neck.”_

“ _Hmph!”_

_Harry walked across the cabin, straight in between Draco's slightly-bent legs as he leaned against the wall. Rush hour over, people walking in was highly unlikely. Harry boldly pressed along Draco's body, feeling the slight bump of his belly and rubbing his nose on Draco's bare neck. A hand strayed to a blond lock at the nape and tugged gently._

“ _Tell you what, I have more convincing ways to assure you about us than some silly rings. Want to try them out once we're home?” Harry practically spoke into Draco's skin, making it tingled._

“ _Bastard”, Draco bit back, but held no flame at all. And no objections, either._

_Harry grinned up and stepped away as the lift arrived at the Atrium. Both men walked out as if they had spent the entire ride glaring daggers at each other instead of almost frotting. As Draco watched Harry Apparated first to the Manor, he toyed the ring on on his left ring finger and whispered to no one in particular:_

“ _But the ring was your idea.”_

_When Draco was moving the small furniture around the room looking for his Potions ingredient list, not daring to Accio in case the paper was stuck under something and the spell would rip it up, he saw a shiny piece of metal under the night-stand. It was Harry's ring on a thin chain._

_Draco picked it up, thinking that Harry had dropped it, but a grin graced his lips and he put it back where he found it._

_Later that evening, when Harry stepped out of the shower, there was no ring on his neck._

_'Oh, right. It wasn't your idea after all.'_

_Vial #11.7.1:_

_'I can already imagine your dad giving you some horrid names already. Probably something after one of his many dear dead relatives and friends. Like Sirius, or James, or Remus. Oh god, a Malfoy named Remus! I refuse to let you be called something so horrible. Not that Remus is such a bad name, but Remus Malfoy, what kind of name is that?! Not that Remus Potter sounds any better.’_

‘ _That's it, from now on you're going to be Scorpius. Scorpius Hyperion Potter.'_

_Vial #31.7.1:_

_Morning, sunlight through the window. Draco was already dressed was now scribing an owl note for Harry before leaving for his check-up. A happy birthday and reminder of tonight's dinner as well as a playful threat to withhold presents if he did not show up._

_Noon, there was an owl waiting on Harry's desk._

“ _Did you read the note?”_

“ _Sure did. Can't wait til tonight!”_

“ _Remember, 8.00 pm sharp. Malfoys don't wait.”_

“ _Of course, 8. Sure, Malfoys only make others wait for them.”_

“ _Git.”_

“ _Ponce.”_

“ _Prat.”_

“ _You love me anyway.”_

“ _And you me.”_

_The owl never came back._

_Evening, summer night. Warm breeze coming into the room from widely-opened windows. The grandfather's clock stroke 9pm. Draco sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a medical book on his lap, the same page as it had been for more than an hour ago. Draco rubbed his belly, feeling ripple of something moving underneath and a push at his palm._

“ _100 Galleons that he would come within the next 15 minutes”, Draco said to the air, betting against himself, or his unborn child, one cannot tell._

“ _All right, half hour then”, Draco said again after 20 minutes, still petting at his belly lovingly._

“ _Quarter to, how's that?”, he spoke up again after a while. Then, adding as if as a side note: “And don't complain about me changing so often, I don't accept bets I cannot hear with my human ears.”_ _And then, with mock taunt, “So, you'd better come out and bet against me properly, my dear, or I'll keep going at it until I win.”_

_The clock was at 9.57 pm when Harry's face appeared in the fire. Did not wait for Draco to lift himself up and get close to the fireplace, the face spoke a bit frantically: “Sorry, emergency here, got stuck with a sudden stake-out. Am down in Wales right now, don't think I'll make it back tonight. Sorry, babe, I'll catch you tomorrow, I promise.”_

_And the head was gone, did not wait to hear a small “All right.” reply._

_Midnight, summer. Half of the windows were closed. Draco was still sitting at the couch with a forgotten book on his lap._

“ _All right, so you win, cheeky little one. Just so you wait, next time I'll show you who's the father.”_

“ _Fine, I can't win against you, all right? I never win. Against anyone.”_

“ _Certainly not her.”_

“ _Do you think he, or they, would ever let me win just once after you're born? Surely they can spare a father from embarrassment in front of his child? Gryffindors are all noble idiots after all.”_

“ _Then again, Slytherin is also full of idiots. I can personally attest to that.”_

“ _But what am I saying? They're going to take you away from me anyway. No, I'll never win for sure!”_

“ _Wait, want to bet again? I bet I know where your dad is. I bet the entire Malfoy fortune that he's either with the Weasel, or the wife, or a combination of the two.”_

“ _Then again, it doesn't matter does it? Either way, he's not here. And I thought letting him feel your kicks was good enough a birthday present. Well, sucks to be him, I'll get to keep all of this to myself. Who needs that stupid danger-loving ill-mannered untamed-haired Potter anyway, right son?”_

_The grandfather's clock chimed 12._

“ _Happy birthday to your dad, Scorpius.”_

_Vial #13.8.1:_

_'See this room here Scorp? This is your nursery. Or what would be your nursery, if your dad decides not to go through with his plan. Which by this point is sadly unlikely. It makes me feel rather foolish to even decorate the room, but it was a soothing thing to do. What do they call it, 'nesting'? Such silly word for a human being, though I guess the principle is still the same.'_

_I know you can't see the room right now, but I'd like to think that it's a nice room for a baby. I've the walls painted with charmed magical creatures, dragons and hippogriffs and the likes. I used to have them in my own nursery when I was young and had always found them wonderful. There's a wide window opening out to the garden and lake, the view is simply fantastic, and it's facing South so the sun wouldn't be too glaring. Not that you'd have to worry about that, being a December baby and all. The floor carpet is blue, I tried not to use too much Slytherin colour, your dad won't like that at all. Not that he'd like any of this anyway, of course. Your cot is green and white though, I just can't help it. Green is way more comforting to a child's eyes than something flamboyant, like orange, or red. I bet you'll spend your early childhood surrounded by some variations of red, my unfortunate child.'_

_'When your dad brings you home, I bet you'll have a really nice nursery there as well. Not that it'll be anything like what I have here, it takes certain class to choose suitable and tasteful furniture for a child after all, and I doubt your dad and his wife have that kind of skill. But then again, what they lack in style, they'll more than make up with love. Remember the fancy mousse and tropical fruits we had yesterday? It's all courtesy of them. They sure know how to pamper a pregnant man. They'll surely spoil you well, too.'_

_It's still going to be a shame though, you won't be able to see this room. It's a pity it'll never see the arrival of a baby. There'll never be any other babies after you, Scorpius.'_

_Vial #26.8.1:_

‘ _Happy 7_ _th_ _month anniversary, Scorpius. Usually people don’t celebrate birthdays on the day of conception, there is a reason why it’s called ‘birthday’ after all. So yes, don’t be sulky if your dad doesn’t gift you with presents on this day. I, myself, would prefer to celebrate on January 26_ _th_ _, despite what others may say. To me, you begin life on this day, it’s fitting that we treasure it.’_

‘ _I have no doubt that it’s highly possible your actual birthday will be turned into something grand, like a national holiday of some sort. Ridiculously pretentious, I tell you. It’s quite incredibly what some people think, and they scorn upon our pureblood traditions. Do you know that your dad’s birthday is actually a holiday? I imagine the man himself doesn’t care, but I really don’t want to impose something so horrid onto anyone, not to mention my own child. Just beware if there’re fireworks on display on that day though.’_

‘ _In all honesty I’m not looking forward to your birth, Scorp. I know, it sounds horrible coming from your parent, but that’s how it is. At least when you’re still in me, he cannot take you away. I know what’s going to happen, we all do, it’s just horrible to imagine not seeing you, not having your heart beating inside me. I won’t even remember your existence when it is all over, but there’s never any doubt that there would be an emptiness inside me still. Obliviation cannot mask what the body feels.’_

‘ _Just this once, let me be selfish. Let me wish that your birthday won’t come. Scorpius, stay in me, just for a little longer.’_

_Vial #23.9.1:_

_'I wonder if you can really hear things in there. Your dad told me that you can. He talks to you a lot, can you tell? Every single time we meet these days. I talk to you too, as you know, I've been doing so since you were literally one week old. Honestly? I feel ridiculous talking to my belly like this. At first, at least. Now it's actually quite soothing. At least there is something here with me, except for the house elves. They aren't so bad themselves but of course one would tend to seek companionship among their own kind. And since I'm a pathetic fool who fails so miserably at that I'm basically clinging onto you. Which is funny, considering you're the one literally attached to me. It'll all change soon though. You'll be out there in the world, meeting all sorts of people. Like the Weasleys. Urgh. And Muggles. Merlin bless you if you get your dad's Gryffindor's naivety. But your dad will keep an eye on you, I hope. Heaps of people out there who would want to hurt Harry Potter's child.'_

_So, remember that at the end of the day,_ _hold onto your dad the tightest. He'll do all he can to protect you, he'll keep you away from dangers. For example, me.'_

_Vial #27.10.1:_

_Draco was moving the furniture about again in mild agitation. As he looked at the spot where the night-stand used to be, there was a glint of metal, but rather dull due to dust._

_The ring was still there._

_Vial #16.11.1:_

_'Only a month left to go, my child. One more month when you will be in my arms. I wonder how long I get to hold you before your dad takes you away. The only comforting thing is that you would not remember a thing about all this. And most likely, I won’t either.’_

_'After you’re born dad will take you to a red-haired lady who will be your mother. I admit I’ve never liked her, though that is more because she is his wife. Although, if that was put aside, she’s actually not too bad. Certainly a smart and fierce witch. A lot of charm too I’ve heard, and she’s the gentle, child-loving kind. She did help bring you to life, so to speak, she’s bound to treasure you as well. If worse comes to worst, your grandmother will help take care of you, the woman herself has had seven of her own after all.’_

‘ _But yes, your mother’ll take good care of you. She’ll bake cakes on your birthday and buy you baby clothes. She’ll feed you in the middle of the night if she has to. She’ll change your dirty nappies with a smile on her face. She’ll love you like her own child.’_

‘ _She’d better, or I’ll make the rest of her life hell, Obliviated or not.’_

_Vial #22.12.1:_

_Draco was alone in the sitting room, leaning against a wooden cupboard while heaving heavily. One of his hands held an emergency Portkey, the other with a wand pointing at his own forehead. An ethereal silver thread was gently pulled out and the memory faded as the string was wound around the tip of his wand. At the end, there was a tear slipping down Draco's paling face._

_'I'm sorry, Scorpius. I can't even keep the memory of your birth.'_

_And so it faded to black._

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore the multitudes of currently available cancer and fertility treatments there are in our Muggle world (and possibly in the Magic world) and let's just say that neither is of much use in Ginny's case. I am not at all well-versed in oncology and the exact nature of Ginny's conditions, but it is likely that she suffered from endometrial cancer and unrelated to this she also had a depletion of ovarian reserve (likely not due to the malignancy, but I'm just hand-waving right now). I did not aim to be medically correct in this story (this was written by an inexperienced 20-year old who did not know any better), so I would have gotten any of the diagnosis or symptoms correctly described. I also cannot say that I have any personal experience dealing with a terminally ill loved one, so hopefully I did not offend anyone with my description of Ginny's illness. My apologies if anything sounds insensitive, or if any fictional details are offensive.


End file.
